


Handling the Handler

by Telaryn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Banter, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Roleplay, Threesome, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is caught in the middle when each of his lovers decide they want to try a threesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handling the Handler

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhDelicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhDelicious/gifts).



> Written as part of the 2012 Be Compromised Secret Santa Exchange.

Natasha doesn't have a problem with whatever it is between Clint and Coulson. She'd even refer to it by name if they'd decide themselves what to call it, but every time the subject comes up all Clint does is grin and duck his head, scrubbing his hand self-consciously across his hair and making it stick out in even more directions than it usually does. She suspects his reaction is one of those cultural things she doesn't quite get, but she also understands enough to know that it's not her place to push the discussion.

She certainly knows better than to call him on his inevitable blush when the subject of how he's “doing the boss” comes up, although it does make her grin every time she sees the shade of red he turns.

Clint is also scrupulous about making sure his “thing” with Coulson doesn't cross over into what time the two of them spend together during their off-hours, although she does occasionally think it would be kind of hot hearing what the two men do together. She's pretty sure that kind of talk is outside Barton's comfort zone though, so it's something of a surprise when he asks her to come back to his quarters after a mission.

“I thought you and Coulson..?” She leaves the question unfinished. They're ostensibly alone, but such things need to be handled with at least a token discretion.

Clint immediately colors, and Nat raises her eyebrows. _It's like that, is it?_ “It…ah…was his idea,” he admits finally - as uncomfortable with the direction the conversation is heading as Nat would have expected. “Apparently he's got something of a thing for you.”

“Me?” Clint had never talked about Coulson being with anyone else the way Clint spent time with her, so Natasha had always just assumed their handler was gay. Finding out he wasn't and that he was potentially interested in her, opened up some intriguing possibilities. “A threesome with you and Coulson…” Her voice trails off, and she smiles. “I like it.”

Clint hums low in his throat, and Nat braces for what's coming next. “Thing is, while it was his idea I could tell he was nervous about bringing it up.”

That revelation definitely confuses her. “He thought I wouldn't want to?” As soon as she asks, it occurs to her that Coulson might assume she didn't approve of him being with one of his subordinates in that way - even if the subordinate in question was somebody Natasha herself had been sleeping with for well over a year.

Clint runs his hand across his hair…again…and Natasha glares at him impatiently. “Ah…thing is Nat, you kind of scare him.” He pauses, meeting her eyes. “A lot.” She waits a few beats for him to elaborate, gesturing at him impatiently when he doesn't offer any additional information.

He cringes slightly, clearly assuming a worst case scenario. “I…suggested that you might be open to playing sub.” He exhales sharply, finishing the revelation in a rush. “At least until he gets a chance to find his rhythm.”

Natasha swallows, feeling a sudden pleasurable warmth spread through her body. “Submit to both of you?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. Clint immediate senses the tone in her voice, and his entire stance relaxes when he nods. Going in submissively for her first time with a man who was also her real-life superior…it pushes more of her buttons than she suspects Clint had even realized it would.

“I'm in.”

Coulson is waiting for them when they enter Clint's quarters, his S.H.I.E.L.D. issue jacket and tie already off and folded neatly over the back of the room's only chair. Clint ushers Natasha in ahead of him - her eyes meet Coulson's for a brief second. It's long enough for her to tell that Clint's assessment of his feelings are pretty much on the mark; she immediately lowers her gaze to a spot in the middle of Coulson's chest, and relaxes her brain into a more submissive mindset.

There is no motion in the room for a long moment, then Clint moves into position at her back, and Coulson slowly crosses the room. “Agents.” Natasha nods in response, and feels Clint do the same.

Three steps later, Coulson is in front of her, and a finger is under her chin - raising her head. “Thank you.” There is an unexpected warmth in his voice, and confidence in his movements as he leans in to kiss her. Natasha closes her eyes, relaxing into the feel of his lips on hers as she manages to keep her hands at her sides. Submissive means she touches neither man unless invited, and it's one of the harder things she challenges herself with when playing this part.

Coulson is an excellent kisser - slow, but thorough in his passions - and Natasha isn't the only one surprised by the small whimper of disappointment that escapes her when he finally lets her up for air. “He's got a bit of an oral fixation,” Clint confirms, his voice low and warm against her skin. Phil's eyes tick up, looking at Barton over her shoulder while he unzips Nat's uniform to her waist.

“You've never complained.”

“This is true,” Clint says lightly, and she can feel his grin. Her jumpsuit is too tight to give Coulson much access with her arms still restrained, so Clint lets her go and helps him peel the fabric over her shoulders and off her arms. When her upper body is bare, Clint trails his fingertips lightly up the skin of her back. Natasha doesn't know if it's the teasing feel of skin brushing skin, or the fact that Phil seems to have discovered a particularly sensitive cluster of nerves just below her left shoulder that starts her trembling.

Clint slides his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “Don't tell me you're cold.”

The sarcastic response is literally on the tip of her tongue, when Coulson steals it away with the heat of his mouth on her breast. Natasha gasps at the sensation, arching reflexively back against Clint; Barton shifts smoothly to steady her. “You like that, hmm?” She nods vigorously, still unable to speak. Her hands come up almost of their own accord, reaching for Coulson before she remembers and forces them back down to her side.

Clint's laugh at her frustration is dark against her skin; Nat realizes that she can feel how much he's enjoying himself as his hips flex slow and sweet against the curve of her ass. “Behave,” he warns, reaching up and carding the fingers of his left hand through the tangle of her hair. “I'd love to chain you up for the rest of the night, so Phil and I can take our time with you.” Coulson hums his agreement around his mouthful of her flesh, sending heat licking along her nerves to pool low in her belly.

He's holding himself in check as much as her, and the flash of knowledge leaves her wet and aching. Coulson shifts his attention to her other breast, and Clint's fingers are clenching and releasing almost convulsively in her hair. Nat squeezes her thighs together, forcing the seam of her uniform up against her clit - and the brief brush of friction is more than enough to trigger her release. Endorphins flood her system and she lets the orgasm wash over her, trusting in the men to keep her from falling.

“That was spectacular.” The note of awe in Phil's voice makes her smile weakly as she gradually comes back to herself. He caresses her cheek, brushing stray ends of hair back from her face.

“Oh trust me,” Clint says, shifting his hold on her, “this is only the beginning. Help me get her to the bed.”

Natasha doesn't resist as they half-walk, half-carry her to the bed. Ever the opportunist, Clint strips her uniform the rest of the way off as Phil helps her lie back against the pillows. “Hold off on those.” Coulson stops Clint with an upraised hand as his fingers hook in the waistband of her panties. Clint pauses for a moment, then pulls free and sits back on his heels obediently.

The automatic, unquestioning obedience catches Nat's attention, penetrating the still hazy afterglow. Clint is a switch, just like her - they often trade roles back and forth when they're alone together - but she senses something different at work here. “You've still got too many clothes on,” Phil says, looking him over with an obviously critical eye. The statement is commentary and command at the same time, and the slight flair of Clint's nostrils as he reacts to the direction causes another surge of pleasurable tightness low in her body.

“Look at me, Agent Romanoff,” he adds, distracting her from watching Clint move backwards off the bed. She complies automatically, pulse rate jumping with how much she likes that he didn't use her given name. “Just now you came in spite of me.” His palm skims down across her stomach, under the waistband of her panties; she moans softly, moving into him as his finger presses down against her clit, rubs a slow, delicious, torturous circle. Natasha spreads her legs wider, bending the knee that isn't pressed up against his legs in order to give him easier access.

“Now you're going to come for me,” he continues, stroking the length of her slit - still damp from her previous release. A finger pushes inside her, fucks her once, twice…Nat moans again, arching her back and rocking her hips hard into the third stroke. 

“Do you understand?” She struggles to maintain eye contact, nodding jerkily. Coulson's pupils are so wide his eyes look black in the dim light, and there's a heat to his gaze Nat never would have believed possible. A second finger penetrates her, sliding in alongside the first. She gasps with pleasure, hands fisting in the sheets underneath her. There's something unexpectedly wicked about feeling the stretch and pull of silk against her skin as he fingers her underneath her panties.

She's half-gone by the time Coulson runs the edge of his thumb across her clit - the jolt along her nerves nearly brings her off the bed as her body clamps down on his fingers. “Look at me, Natasha,” he murmurs. Her obedience is rewarded immediately with another quick brush of his thumb. “Only me.”

“Kiss me.” She hadn't intended to ask, certainly didn't intend to have it sound like she's begging him for anything, but he's got her on the edge - every nerve in her body craving as much of him as he's willing to give her. “Fuck, Coulson, please…”

Clint would have made her work for it, but for all his quiet control Phil is innately more merciful than either of them. There's nothing soft about his lips as he kisses her this time though, and his tongue licks quick, hot lines inside her mouth. He strokes her clit with his thumb again, not letting up this time, pushing her closer…closer…

When Natasha finally comes, she is half off the bed, crying her release into Coulson's open mouth - her body crushed so hard around his fingers that he's forced to shift his focus entirely to her clit. The sudden surge of pleasure carries her to a second plateau. Heedless of anything but the man now half on top of her, Nat wraps her arms around Coulson's neck and hugs him even more tightly to her.

“Thank you…thank you…thank you…” The litany is spilling from her lips when he finally lets her up for air. “Fuck…fuck…”

“Easy.” He slowly eases off his strokes, soothing her back down into full awareness of herself and her surroundings. “We've got you.” Natasha draws a deep, shuddering breath, but just as she starts to relax, an aftershock convulses her body making her cry out and curl in tighter against Coulson.

“Shh…” Clint is suddenly warm at her back again, supporting and steadying her again as she shivers between them. “Breathe Nat…breathe…”

She tries to inhale again, and this time manages to let go most of her tension on the exhale. “You with us?” Phil asks, cupping her face in his hand and looking into her eyes.

By way of answer, she surges forward and kisses him - a quick, firm press of lips. “Thank you,” she repeats, and her voice is her own this time.

It's Coulson's turn to laugh then. “Believe me Natasha, it was my pleasure.” His eyes tick past her face, once again looking at Clint over her shoulder. “And I suspect we're far from finished.”

*********************

Clint swallows hard. For a man who spends so much time in the background, Coulson has one of the most direct gazes he's ever seen - more than once Clint has felt like his soul is being laid bare by the other man.

Nat convulses in his arms again with a final aftershock - his arms tighten around her automatically, even though it's not nearly as violent as the other ones. Rubbing his cheek against her hair, he murmurs soothing noises even as he maintains eye contact with Coulson. “Do you have something you'd like to say, Agent Barton?”

Clint can't help grinning at that - there is something incredibly hot about Phil carrying his handler persona over into the bedroom. “I'd say lady's choice,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to Natasha's sweat-soaked hair, “but I'm not sure she'd choose me after that.”

Phil snorts, sliding off the other side of the bed. “Then I suggest you get busy and change her mind.” Clint watches as he unfastens the top two buttons of his white shirt, thinking of all the other times he's been the one opening Coulson's shirt, feeling him tremble as Clint skims his hands across the pale, muscled flesh.

“I want his cock.” Clint's grin is wicked as Natasha pulls free of his embrace and turns to look at him. “You'll make that happen, won't you?”

“Oh I don't know,” he says, brushing her hair back of her face with his fingertips. “Seems to me I was told I have to convince you to want me as much as you want him.”

Maintaining eye contact, Natasha wraps her fingers around his shaft. Clint's breath hitches in his throat as she lightly squeezes him. “Oh, I always want you Barton.” This time her smile reaches her eyes. “Especially when you're this happy to see me.” She jacks him twice - slow and firm, just the way he likes it - and Clint tries not to think about how desperate the moan that escapes him sounds.

“I'd…uh...be careful doing that,” he gasps, putting a hand over hers and stopping her mid-stroke. “Unless you want me to embarrass myself, that is.”

The gleam in her eyes says more clearly than any words that she would be happy doing just that, but she releases him and inches backward, giving him room to take his turn lying back against the pillows. She's on him before he's completely settled - panties gone, one hand braced lightly on his chest, straddling his hips as she lightly brushes her still damp flesh across the achingly sensitive end of his cock. “Bitch,” he breathes, writhing against the need to grab her by the hips and force the issue.

Green eyes meet his. “Be a good boy now, and don't move.” Natasha lowers herself partway onto his cock, then pauses again. Clint inhales sharply, struggling against his rising frustration in order to obey. He likes the control - whether it's Nat or Coulson on the other end of his metaphorical leash - but watching the two of them together has taken him to the outer limits of his endurance.

“Should have kept your hands above your waist,” Nat chides him, easing herself the rest of the way down until he's buried full length inside her. Clint cries out at the sudden surge of pleasure, flexing his hips into her. She's right of course, but he doesn't know anyone that could have watched a mostly naked Natasha having two monster orgasms and behaved themselves.

“Hands over your head, Clint.” They both turn to see Coulson watching them. His shirt has been neatly laid over the back of one of the room's hard-backed chairs, and his trousers and boxers have been pushed far enough down his hips to free his own erection. “You know the drill.” His left hand is lightly - almost casually - stroking his own cock.

Natasha is riding him now as he reaches above his head and curls his fingers around one of the bars of the metal headboard, each stroke exquisitely slow and tight along the length of his cock. Clint watches as Coulson shucks the rest of his clothes and joins them on the bed, before turning his attention back to the woman on top of him.

She is everything he never knew he wanted for himself, and Clint feels his chest ache with a sudden surge of emotion. Love is for children. She's said it many times, and he's pretty sure he agrees with her - but if the overwhelming rightness he feels when they're together like this isn't love, he's no longer sure he'd survive the real thing.

A small half-smile plays around her lips, and he knows without having to ask that Natasha's thoughts are traveling along similar lines. Clint raises his chin slightly, putting the question into his eyes, and she comes to him immediately - pressing down into him full length as her mouth covers his.

The additional contact is a release all on its own; he has to squeeze down on the headboard to keep from wrapping his arms around her and pulling her even more tightly against his chest.

*********************

It's his job to see - even so, Coulson is pretty sure a blind man would have sensed the moment when Clint and Natasha moved into perfect sync with each other. He has a momentary flash of feeling like an intruder - even though the sex is still sheet-scorchingly hot, and he's secure enough to know that they were sincere in inviting him to join them, there is something too raw, too intimate, in his witnessing the depth of the emotional connection that binds them.

He's not certain they would be allowed to continue working together if the truth of it were known outside these walls. Not that he's going to be the one to blow the whistle on them, of course. He's comfortable swearing to anyone who asks that nothing about their personal relationship has compromised their working relationship in any way. Their record to date stands for itself, but Coulson is more than willing to provide any additional support they need.

Their thrusts are steadily increasing in pace and intensity, and Coulson tightens his grip on his own cock as he feels himself getting closer to his own release. Natasha flexes her hips in a small, quick twist, and Clint's back bows in reaction - baring his throat to her and finally ending their kiss. Nat immediately buries her face in the curve that joins his neck to his shoulder, biting down hard if Barton's reaction is any indication. Clint's eyes roll back for a second, and then he turns his head and looks for Coulson.

He raises his free hand in invitation, just as Clint releases his hold on the headboard. One arm curls around Natasha's shoulders, the other reaches for Coulson. Their fingers interlock, and he can feel the surge of energy as Clint's hand squeezes his. Every muscle in the archer's arms and shoulders is tight and trembling; his skin is shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Heat pools low in Coulson's belly, making everything suddenly too sharp - too real. He's dimly aware that he's making pleasure sounds of his own now, but as they pale in comparison to the sounds Clint and Natasha are making, he can't find the energy or the focus to care.

He's the first one to go, muscles seizing, mouth open in a wordless cry as he comes in a thick, warm spill over his fist; Clint's eyes watching him. Natasha's cry quickly overwhelms his own, and Coulson watches as she shudders and convulses against Clint, and the rising tension in the air grows thick enough to touch.

“Fuck…” Clint breathes, tightening his grip on both of them. Coulson feels his spent cock twitch weakly against his thigh as Barton thrusts once…twice…his hips locking into Nat's on the third stroke. His eyes roll back, and his cry of relief as he finally comes is almost a snarl. His grip on Coulson's hand is almost painful now, but Phil knows he would sooner cut his own arm off than complain at this point.

Natasha starts coming again, her gasps and moans a sobbing counter-point to the noises Clint is still making. Her right hand fumbles down his arm, until her fingers wrap around Clint and Coulson's still-joined hands. Coulson shifts his grip to press his thumb on the top of her hand, bringing her more completely into their link of skin to skin.

His heart is racing by the time the two of them come down. Two pairs of eyes turn towards him, and he feels them drawing him into their bond. “I…should…go get some towels or something,” he stammers, quailing at how deeply in love with both of them he is at this point, and the lengths he would willingly go.

Clint pulls their joined hands to his lips and presses a soft, gentle kiss to Coulson's skin. Then it's Natasha's turn, and she chooses to mark him with a light nip over his knuckles. “You need to lie down with us for a bit,” she tells him. “There will be time to clean up later, and I'm not through with you yet.”

It's both promise and threat, and as he complies with her direction, Coulson finds himself wondering when he lost control of the situation.

“Don't over-think it,” Clint says, turning his head and kissing Coulson. “Just enjoy.”

And Phil decides he can absolutely get on board with that plan.


End file.
